You're Mine
by m.t.dog
Summary: Chase gets molested, and House is there to remind him just who he belongs to. Slash, so don't read if you don't like


Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. All of it belongs to Fox Eight, except, of course, the plot of this story. Please don't sue.

A/N: My first House story! It's probably not very good, but…please leave good reviews! I'd love you forever if you did!

Note: This story takes place in like the 25th or so episode. It has the guy from death row in prison, and House sends Chase to check it out, and, when asked why, says that Chase has a prettier mouth then Foreman… . 

"I assume you've got some reason sending _me_ to the prison, other then just trying to torture me?" Chase asked, his accent highlighted with exasperation.

House leered at him for a minute, blue eyes full of hidden lust, before responding, "You have a prettier mouth, the inmates are more likely to talk to you." Chase rolled his eyes at the response, though his heart secretly warmed at the veiled compliment, before turning and heading out the door.

(A car drive later…)

"Ugh, I am never coming to a prison again," Chase muttered to himself as he searched their patient's cell for a hidden stash of drugs. There were rags strewn about the room, the walls were covered in a film of dirt, sweat, and probably blood and the whole building felt like it was 10 degrees below zero. Worst of all, Chase could practically feel the other inmates leering at him, raking their eyes up and down his body, and it made him shudder just to think of doing anything sexual with any of them.

Sighing, he sat back and gazed at the ceiling. There wasn't anything here, which meant he'd have to venture further into the prison to get to the cell where they held Terrance (1) when he was sick. Once again, he felt a slight, disgusted tremor go through his body at the thought, but he steeled himself, stood up, and headed down the hall.

"Psst," a voice whispered from one of the cells that Chase had just passed. He stopped and cocked his head, bluish eyes wide as he listened for the sound again.

"Psst." There it was again. Chase turned and headed back from where he came, before stopping in front of a cell that housed a chubby, balding man who smirked out at him with cold, dark brown eyes that looked like they belonged on a rat.

"What do you want?" Chase asked, silently kicking himself for coming back this way. This man didn't look very friendly.

"You're looking for Terrance's stash, aren't ya? I can help ya find it, promise," the man told him with a slight Brooklyn accent. When Chase nodded, the man leaned closer to the bars that separated the two men, and beckoned Chase to do the same. After a moment of hesitation, Chase thought, _"Ah, what the hell,"_ and walked closer, until he was right in front of the cell.

"Well? What do you know?" Chase prompted, small nose crinkling slightly at the smell radiating form the man. Instead of answering, the man suddenly thrust his hand out through the bars, grabbed the silky strands of golden hair at the base of Chase's neck, forced his head forward, and then smashed his lips upon the wide eyed Australian's mouth. When Chase automatically recoiled, the inmate tightened his grip, making Chase gasp in pain. Seizing his chance, the man shoved his tongue into Chase's mouth, making him fight even harder. He then freed one of his hands from the back of Chase's neck, and let his fingers wander down a toned chest, firm abs, before finally stopping before Chase's belt. Terror filled Chase, and with a burst of adrenaline filled strength, he broke the convict's grip, gasping, hair mussed, and lips bruised.

"You bastard," Chase spat out, attempting to straighten his tie and glare at the smirking man at the same time. When he got no answer but more leering, Chase turned to continue the investigation, eager to get out of there as quickly as he could.

"Hey, it's not my fault you're much a pretty boy! And trust me, if I wasn't in this stupid cell, we'd have done a whole hell of a lot more then just kiss, trust me," the balding man yelled back at Chase, enjoying the view of his firm bottom as Chase stormed away. When Chase did nothing to show that he heard, the man just leaned back in his cell, licking his lips, and remembering the mesmerizing taste of vanilla that had been in the lithe Australian's mouth.

(A couple of hours later…)

"I hopes you're happy, you git," Chase spat out at his lover as soon as they entered their apartment. He stood in front of the cripple, hands on thin hips that were slung to the side, and a glare in his bright eyes. House took one look at him, and knew instantly that he was in serious trouble; Chase was rarely truly angry at him, and when he was, he was a force to be reckoned with.

"Oh, what, was prison a little too hard for the rich, pretty boy to handle?" House mocked, leaning forward to better look into the shorter man's eyes.

"You bastard. I get molested by some fat, baling man who tasted like rotton eggs, and that's the comfort I get?" Chase spat out, his accent prominent through his anger. When House did nothing but stare at him, Chase threw up his arms in exasperation, and was about to give up when House's voice, full of rage and jealousy, stopped him.

"What do you mean…molested?" House whispered, blue eyes glinting madly.

"I mean that one of those convicts grabbed me and started molesting me! It was the most disgusting thing that I've ever had to experience, and I hope you're happy with…" Suddenly, a pair of lips were covering his own, and Chase lost his train of thought completely. The kiss was possessive, and controlling, tongues dueling, though it was clear that House had control of everything. Chase felt his knees start to weaken when House grabbed his hips and propelled him forward, their erections brushing together just so, just enough for Chase to let out a moan from around their kiss. He started rocking his hips forward, earning a groan from the dark haired man, and just when Chase was going to beg for them to go to the bedroom, House broke the kiss, panting, and gazing down at Chase with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"You belong to me, you got that? _Anyone_ ever touches you again, and they'll have to deal with me…and I promise, I'm not quite as weak as I look," House said to Chase, who shivered in pleasure from the heat that was in his lover's words. After he nodded, House grinned down at him, lust evident in his eyes, and asked, "Hmmm…where should I leave my mark of ownership?"

Chase shuddered just thinking of the possibilities.

1- I'm pretty sure that's the guys name, but if it isn't, sorry!

A/N: Yeah, I know it wasn't very good, but please remember that this is my first time making a story like this. Please review!!!


End file.
